Gemstone Boy
by Livallee
Summary: My first life was normal. My second life was not. With petty deities, clashing pantheons and a whole lot more shit thrown my way, my current life was anything but normal.[SI!OC]
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: My first life was normal. My second life was not. With petty deities, clashing pantheons** _ **,**_ **and a whole lot more shit thrown my way, my current life was anything but** _ **normal**_ **. [SI!-OC]**

 **OR, in which, a normal seventeen years old dies in the most cliché way possible, finds himself in the world of Percy Jackson after the wars, and is reborn as a Legacy with a new prophecy hanging over his head. When he'd said he had wanted some excitement in his life, he had meant in his first one alive, not after he had died and was thrown headfirst into this shit with no warning whatsoever, damnit!**

 **Rated: T**

 **Disclaimer: I don't owe any of this except the OC made for this story. Rick Riordan owes anything and everything that is canon.**

 **Warning: Eventual slash. If you're not a fan of these kind of pairings, don't read. Oh, yeah, and a heck lot of cursing. There is also going to be a few needed OCs.**

 **Chapter 01**

 **Of Gems and War**

When I was alive, I had a pretty OK life.

I mean – I had a mum, a dad, and a little hellion of a sister. I had decent grades and didn't get into too much trouble. My social life wasn't amazing, but it wasn't entirely horrible. The same could be said for my love life.

I had flat brown hair, tanned skin, and was of average height for a boy in his last year of high school. I looked – in my sister's words – _plain_. Average. Normal.

Which was honestly sad. Really. Normal was the single word that practically told the entire story that was my life.

I had a middle class family, with a decently well-off restaurant owner for a dad and a housekeeper/part time teacher for a mum. My sister was exactly three years younger than me, with no defects whatsoever. And I was like the typical high school student with a group that I was sorta friends with but not exactly and worried about grades and homework.

So, in every aspect and way, I was absolutely normal. I didn't have any drama or relationship problem bullshit that I was aware of. No. The most exciting thing to ever happen in my life was winning my school's annual spelling bee competition.

And wasn't that just _sad_? I could even practically already see what my future would be like. I would graduate college, become a salary man at some decent company, marry a just as average woman and pop out a kid or two, just for sake of it.

Admittedly, I do wish for _something_ to happen in my life. At least, before I leave high school. I didn't want the kind of future I pictured in my head, damnit! Just becoming another face in the crowd was definitely not something I wanted, even if I wasn't sure if I wanted attention either.

And then I died. I died in the most clichéd way ever. I died in a car crash, by getting hit by a drunken driver on my way home from school.

It was so goddamn _clichéd ._ Because, whenever you wanted or needed to conveniently get rid of someone in a story, just slam them into car crash with a drunk for the person behind the wheel. That would solve everything.

As I died, my last, conscious thoughts were, _Fuck that arsehole,_ before succumbing myself to the ice cold grasps of death. And for a while, I wandered.

I wandered aimlessly through the seemingly endless vortex I had found myself in. I felt myself walk on listlessly with no drive to _somewhere._ I didn't know where was that _'somewhere'_ ; I just knew it was there, waiting for me to reach the finish line.

Perhaps, I was taking it too calmly, but after dying, my heart went numb. It felt like all my emotions and feelings were turned to ice. I felt like a puppet, merely following the whims and directions of the puppeteer who continuously made me move with no rest or questions asked.

I was nothing more than a robot during my brief time after life.

While I wandered, I did wonder about the people I left behind after my most untimely demise. How was my sister? My father? My mother? Or even Henry the goldfish. Were they still sad? Had they moved on?

Heck, thinking about it now, how much time had passed back on Earth? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Hell, maybe even _years?_

I didn't know. It wasn't like I had some convenient watch or clock here with me right now. And to be truthful, I had long since stopped caring after wandering for so long.

And then, there was light.

It started small first, unseeable to the naked eye. A mere miniscule, bacteria-sized dot of white among the endless sea of black, overshadowed by the more obvious background. But with each step forward I took, the bigger and brighter said light got.

Along with each stride, my emotions slowly flooded back into me, at the pace of a snail. One by one, they bled back into me. For a moment, it paused and so did my steady gait that-until now-had never stopped before.

And suddenly, a dam broke.

Every emotion I had-sadness, happiness, anger and so many, many _more_ that I had thought to have forgotten-rushed back in an instant. It took me by surprise. So many different feelings were emptied out into me at once, like someone had clumsily tipped it over too fast.

I viciously wrestled them, fought them to get some semblance of emotional control as I tried to calm down after so long a time without emotions. I felt like a computer given too much data at once, trying desperately to process every rapid column of information that came, on the very verge of a breakdown.

Only for me, it would be like an emotional meltdown with the joyride my feelings were having a blast taking.

When I had _finally_ managed a sliver of a grip on them, light had already overwhelmed me, drowning out my every senses as I was swallowed by its rays.

Hazel Proserpina Levesque was a happy woman.

As she looked on at the slumbering faces of her newborn twin children, Hazel felt so much joy. Not even the happiness she felt on her wedding day could rival the joy that burst through her at this very moment. She wanted to scream her happiness for the world to hear. She wanted to show every person out there her perfect, beautiful baby boys that were sure to grow up into wonderful, young men one day.

She couldn't help it; they were just so beautiful. She was willing to bet Olympus itself that Frank was feeling the exact same as she did.

Craning her head to the side, she let her loving gaze sweep over them, observing every little detail of her precious children.

The eldest, her firstborn, was a chubby baby. Just out of the womb, and already, he weighed slightly more than the average newborn. He seemed to have inherited almost everything from her. He had the same shade of skin and hair as she did. He even inherited her curly locks. It would turn to become quite the hassel when he grew older. Frank had complained that the only features that their first had received from him was his brown eyes.

They had named him, Samuel, in the honour of her beloved deceased friend and gifted him the middle name of Mars to honour her father-in-law.

Her second born, on the other hand, look like her firstborn's polar opposite. He had been born much more petite and underweight instead. Contrasting sharply with Samuel's dark, African looks, her second son looked more like Frank than her. He had Frank's fair skin, black curls and Asian attributes. Then, it had been her turn to bemoan to Frank that their second son's only trait was his solid gold gaze, that was the same as hers.

His name was Emmanuel-a more masculine version of her mother-in-law's name since Hazel doubted their son would appreciate being named Emily or Emilia in the future-and his middle name was Pluto. They had named Emmanuel those names for the same reason they had given Samuel his names.

Her eyes lingered on them for only a bit longer, before a small yawn slipped past her lips. She could feel sleep beckoning to her after that long day in the emergency room to birth her two darlings. Letting out a small smile, she fell asleep into the arms of Morpheus, feeling overjoyed to finally be able to see her dear children in the world of living.

Unbeknownst to Hazel, her second child didn't quite share her thoughts about his birth, as golden eyes showed a dazed, horrified awareness.

Bleary eyed and uncomfortable, I felt immense irritation swell up within me as I tried my best to stay awake, even if it was for only a few measly seconds. For some reason, no matter how much I squirmed, my limbs never responded to my mental commands.

I felt swaddled. My body was wrapped by something soft and silky. It was a nice feeling, but it would have been even nicer if it wasn't swaddling _me._

Desperately clinging onto whatever awareness I still had, I was horrified to realise that my body felt too small and tiny. Definitely not the body of a seventeen years old teenager.

As my pathetic vision waned even more, I forlornly stared up at the whiteness of the world as I lamented about one last thing before I went unconscious.

 _Why me?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Rated: T**

 **Disclaimer: Once again, I owe nothing except the Ocs specially created for this story. Everything canon here or you recognise from the books, belong to Rick Riordan.**

 **Warning: Eventual slash. Foul language ahead and a lot more stuff. A few rather needed Ocs here and there too. Oh, yeah. Slash means Boyxboy, so if it's not your taste, please don't read.**

* * *

 **Chapter 02**

 **Baby steps**

* * *

Being a baby sucked. Big time.

As a baby, my only three available options were wail, poop and sleep. All which were not appealing one bit to a half-pissed, half-dazed mentally seventeen years old baby like me.

Of course, there was the fourth option of _suckle_ , but I refused to acknowledge that option until it forced itself into my face when I could see clearly. Because, let me affirm this. The eyesight of a baby was absolute crap.

(And god, feeding time was probably the _only_ time I was grateful for my shit eyesight. I felt like a bloody peeping tom every time my own mother-and how weird was that? A different mother-breastfed me. I soon came to hate it as much _diaper changing time. Eugh._ )

It took me a long time to recognise my situation. And it took me an embarrassingly even longer amount to accept it, after what must have been like five continuous breakdowns. I had caused my new parents a hella lot of stress during that time of my life.

All those bloody stories about characters getting rebirthed were grossly exaggerated and I had gained a new appreciation for all those people who were thrown into this kind of shit. But seriously

though, a lot of stories painted out their characters calmly accepting what had happened to them. How the fuck could _anyone_ accept a situation like this so calmly?

After my hysteria had declined itself enough for me to think, I had skipped past the _why_ and _how_ I was here, figuring that the reasons would show themselves one day, to the _where_ part of my questions.

Honestly speaking, I had no idea where I had been reborn into. For all the time that I was here, I had yet to hear-because at this point of my life, my eyes were of near to no help at all-of any clues that would help me figure out which kind of reality I had been unwillingly dropped into.

Had I been reborn on the Earth I was familiar with? The Earth I had died on? Or had I been dropped into some fictional world like every other character in my situation had been?

Because quite frankly, if I had been reborn into some franchise like freaking Akame Ga Kill, or worse, Attack on _fucking_ titan, I would _flip my shit_.

Because as much as I enjoyed watching these kind of anime, I did not want _live_ in anime shows like those two, thank you very much.

Squirming, I squinted my eyes, trying to see as much as I could with my limited field of vision. My eyes could see as far as what I estimated to be approximately three feet, so I could at least see some things clearly, although it would have been of more help if I could get up. This little factor also helped me determine my age.

And it had only felt like mere hours ago when I had popped out of my new mum's stomach. And wow, had two months really passed that fast?

Perking up when I heard the telltale creak of the door, I lifted my head up to see the loving face of my dad. My new dad was a handsome guy.

While David Johnson - I steadily ignored the numb sting of pain at the mere thought of my father - had been a lanky, thin man with neatly combed blonde hair and warm brown eyes, the man face to face with me was one of a tall but well muscled frame with military styled black hair and equally as warm brown eyes. Whereas David Johnson was a man of Western descent, this man here was clearly from the East.

Both were completely different, but I knew that I would one day come to love and see this man as my father as I had with my previous one.

Gentle hands cradled me up as he stared affectionately at me. A smile wormed its way onto his face and I just knew that I was smiling back at him just as brightly as he was at me.

"Hey, little guy." he muttered. "You're energetic today, aren't you? Well that's good. You're gonna need it. You'll be meeting some friends of your mummy and daddy today. Their kids as well. I'm sure all of you will get along just fine."

While outside I was-to my slight horror-girly giggling like a madman high on drugs, inwardly I was excited, and my head was running faster than a cheetah ever could. Finally, I could see other people! While I did like my new parents, it got boring real quick to see only them.

Sure, they had to have taken me out a few times to show off, but those times had unfortunately always happened while I was on another unscheduled nap. So really? The only people I had actually ever seen in this place were my parents.

It was so frustrating these days, as I was compelled to act like a baby at my every waking moment. Sometimes I gave in, sometimes I didn't. I seriously couldn't wait to grow up.

"Now, let's get you all cleaned up," he hummed, picking at the orange onesie laid out for me on my changing table.

I grimaced. Yup, I couldn't wait for the day my body started catching up with my mentality.

* * *

Humming a nostalgic old lullaby in Chinese that his mother used to sing to him, Frank buttoned up the onesie as his son squirmed. Once he was finished, he gave his son a quick once-over, before deeming Emmanuel well-dressed enough.

Scooping up Emmanuel into his arms, Frank propped the baby onto his hips and made his way out of the twin's shared room and down the stairs. After checking if Samuel was still sleeping, of course. As he stepped off the last of them, he quickly caught sight of a few familiar figures chatting with Hazel in their living room.

Lounging on their deep red loveseat, Percy and Annabeth conversed happily with his wife as the husband of the Jackson couple bounced their four years old, Lucas Jackson, on his lap. His wife stroking the blonde curls of their five months old, Charles Jackson, who was cuddled up with his mother.

On their other loveseat, the Grace family were also having a chat with the Valdez couple. Both pairs had their children held in their arms, although Jason and Piper's three years old daughter was too busy playing around with the toys left on the ground to bother with what her parents were doing right now. Rena Valdez and Rohan Grace were soundly sleeping in their respective mother's embrace.

The last of the couples, the Solaces, were relaxing on the smaller couch with Reyna, the only single person here, occupying the armchair by the side. His brother-in-law and his husband were cuddling with each other while Reyna watched the television made specially for demigods to safely use, paying no mind to the two men beside her. The only ones not there were the Underwoods and the Hedges. Both were currently either out of the country or busy with something else.

All attention turned to him though when he appeared and sat by his wife's side. They were all focused on the tiny infant with him who was, for once, not sleeping.

Percy was the first to greet him, "Hey Frank! Seems like Emmanuel's finally woke up."

That seemed to be the cue that everyone was waiting for as immediately, they all started commenting about his and Hazel's youngest. Every one of them were eager to see his youngest actually awake and aware of them, and not drowsing off into another unplanned catnap.

"Oh, he's so cute! He looks like a little angel."

"He's got Hazel's eyes but the rest of the face is definitely Frank all around."

"Hot Hades! He's gonna grow to be a looker someday. Just like his brother! When they grow up, Uncle Leo's gonna teach them every trick in the book to pick up girls. If they beg, of course."

"Don't you dare, Leo!"

Frank hid a small grin as his wife admonished Leo for that statement. Really, Leo should've known better than to say that in front of Hazel. She had, after all, been born in the 1930's, and had been raised with strict morals. Of course, she wouldn't let them learn such a habit, much less from Leo. But then again, knowing Leo, he'd probably do it anyway.

"So, this is little man number two of the Zhang family huh?" Percy remarked. "Gotta say, he looks nothing like his twin brother."

Nico grunted from where he laid in Will's hold. "Can't say he looks much like Hazel either. You didn't cheat on my sister with another woman now, _did you_?"

He let out a nervous chuckle at the threatening glare on his brother in law's face, as his mind flashed back to a certain _conversation_ that he and Nico had before he'd marry Hazel. Frank shuddered. Nico could be real _creative_ when he wanted to be. Especially with threats.

Hazel giggled at the terrified look on her husband's face, "No, Nico. Frank didn't cheat on me. I'm very sure I had twins, and I'm just as sure that Emmanuel came out right after his elder brother did."

Frank slumped in relief when Nico finally relented his glare. It wasn't like Frank feared Nico (Gods no, they were family after all), but his brother in law had a glare that could rival his father, Hades.

While they talked on about trivial matters and the likes, their children-or at least, the ones that were aware of what was going on-stared at the new arrival with unrestrained curiosity.

All of them had never seen the child before. And naturally as children, they were curious of this new person they had never met or seen of until today. Eventually, with his short attention span, Charles turned away from the other infant and instead, busied himself with playing with his mother's own pretty blonde curls.

Soon, Kathryn Grace too turned her attention elsewhere. In her eyes, the toys were way more fun than the baby with Uncle Frank. The last child, the eldest of the lot-Lucas-still quietly observed the sole black haired child here. He knew Aunt Hazel had twins, two children that came out of the womb at the same time.

He had only seen Samuel before, but this baby looked very different from his twin. He thought twins were supposed to share some similarities, but they looked as different as night and day to young Lucas. While he knew they were fraternal twins-Aunt Hazel had said so after all-surely even fraternal twins shared _some_ resemblances. Right?

He also watched as the baby's face scrunched up. With what feelings, Lucas didn't know, but if there was one thing he could confirm about Emmanuel was that he definitely had more facial expression than his brother.

Determined to find if he had missed something, he narrowed his stormy grey eyes, trying pinpoint every little detail of this new unknown.

Time passed, and it was not until a sharp, shrill cry pierced the friendly atmosphere, was Lucas' concentration and observation forcefully broken. He saw Aunt Hazel huffed amusedly before going back up to fetch the other twin.

…Perhaps he'd have better luck trying to find similarities between the Zhang twins if they were right next to each other.

* * *

When my father had brought us down, I had fully steeled myself to face the gaggle of excited people in our living room who would surely squeal my ears off and bore me to death with their-to me-monotonous talks.

Sure enough, that gaggle of people were there, but they were much quieter than I expected, which I appreciated immensely for, what with my unusually sharp hearing as a baby. I had listened in a bit to their talk out of curiosity. There wasn't really anything that caught my attention, until that skinny, elfish-looking guy opened his mouth.

 _Twin_ brother.

I had a twin _brother_.

An _elder_ twin brother if what these fuzzy giants in front of me were saying was true.

 _Holy mother of God,_ how had I not notice this earlier?!

Ok, so maybe my conscious has been rather spotty and erratic in pattern, but _fuck._ This was a twin brother. A guy who was popped out of the womb at the same time, or before if we were being specific, as me.

So seriously. _How the fuck had I not noticed this?!_ I had been in this world for two months already, damnit! Was this the irrefutable proof of my shot-to-hell observation skills that my prior life's _darling_ little sister had incessantly complained about?!

I was so fixated about this new life-changing revelation that I had tune out everything around me. I felt my face twist with shock, as I _still_ tried to process this situation. In fact, I was so shocked to the point that nothing could possibly snap me out of my stupor. At least, nothing but the sudden cry that sounded through the halls.

Head snapping up faster than I thought feasible for a baby's neck to support said action, I watched attentively as my mother- _Hazel, such a different name compared to Catherine. Much simpler and… sweeter too_ -drifted out the room to the source of the shrill wail. I waited impatiently, expectantly, for my mother to come down with my brother.

I was not disappointed.

In only minutes, my mother had finally re-entered, but this time, with an extra, crying passenger in her arms. He looked different, _very_ different compared to me.

He looked more African than Asian like me. His curly, cinnamon hair was tousled up in a baby version of an army buzz cut. Mine was a dark black, messily curling downwards to frame my face. His eyes were a milk chocolate brown, like Dad's, which were, right now, blurred with tears. I had Mum's bright eyes, that resembled molten gold. His skin was the shade of someone who worked long and hard under the sun. Mine was pale, not the sickly kind of pale, but the healthy sort of pale.

Overall, we. . .looked nothing alike. Like literally. The only thing we seemed to share was the gender. Even the way our bodies were built were completely different at this age; with mine being more smaller and his taking after our Dad. I could already tell this guy was gonna be a giant compared to me.

. . .Were we actually twins?

"Come now, Sammy, there's nothing to cry about." my Mum soothed. "Look. Your Aunties and Uncles are all here. So are your friends."

It didn't calm him. If anything, my brother wailed even louder. I could see the few winces of pain the loud noise did to the ears of our guests.

"Do you want Frank?" She tried handing him to Dad, but 'Sammy' squirmed away from him.

"Do you want your godfather?" This time, she tried giving him to Leo, but my brother didn't want him either, prompting a mock-hurt expression from the elfish dude. So his name was Leo? And we had godparents?

"Do you want your brother?" I wonder who were my godpa-wait. What?

That seemed to be what he wanted as immediately, he stopped crying and started beckoning excitedly towards me.

Since I was a baby, I couldn't move much. At two months old, all I could do was weakly grasp things and move my hands, but that was it. So unless my Dad suddenly decided to hightail out of the house with me, I wasn't going have a snowball chance in hell to escape sibling bonding time.

I didn't hate the idea of having a sibling; after all, I had been an elder brother to one, but I had always been uncomfortable with unneeded physical contact. And the trait had still carried on into this life too.

I squirmed, but it seemed like my twin didn't like the idea of me not getting used to him, as he once again started bawling his eyes out.

 _Geez, ok! I get it!_ I thought, panicked while the cries increased in sound, prompting one baby to start crying and two others to wake up and start wailing as well. Lucky for me, the two obviously older children stayed quiet, as the adults started fussing over their respective infants. _Go ahead! Cuddle me all you want and that shizz. Just. Stop._ _ **Crying.**_

Somehow, he understood me. As soon as he stopped, the other babies started to calm down too. For some strange, obscure reason, I felt like I had just lost a battle.

Immediately, Mum tucked Sammy into Dad's hold with me, relieved that he wasn't crying now. He cuddled into me, and after a second of hesitation, I did the same as well.

I could hear the cooing of compliments over us, and suddenly, felt rather miffed that I had given in so easily to the demands of an _actual_ baby.

But as I felt the warm head on mine and saw the childishly happy grin on his face, all miffed annoyance left me as I gazed at the joy somehow expressed on my twin's face.

Yes. I couldn't wait to grow up. I couldn't wait to have a bigger body and was impatient for it. I couldn't wait to be older. . .but perhaps I could take the chance to try enjoy babyhood? I had a good childhood in my past life, but how many people could claim they remembered every single thing from their time as a baby. Not many I was sure.

Yes. I wanted to grow, but maybe for now, I should take things slow.

After all, baby steps, right?

 **Annnnd done! So here we are with the second chapter that took a goddamn month to break out.**

 **SO, um, to all of you who like this story, Thanks! I really appreciate it. Now this author note is here to outline a few details about this story.**

 **To WiseGirlGeek: Thanks.**

 **To DarkDust27: Thanks for the compliment. While I will take into consideration what you want, I'm sorry to say that I can't pair Emmanuel with any of the canon cast. The reason why is going to be explained in the next paragraph.**

 **One, this story is set** _ **after**_ **the book series. Meaning after the Giant war, after the Titan war, after everything. This story, though, will not include the Trials of Apollo, so to all those who've read that book, just pretend that Zeus gave Apollo another similar punishment. Meaning he was still turned mortal. But yeah, the story setting is after the PJaTO and HoO series.**

 **So no offense, but I don't wanna take Thalia out of the Hunters. And Solangelo is a cute pairing. And to make my story work, I need all the canon pairings. So essentially, this entire story is about the next generation of demigods/legacies.**

 **But don't worry! Because I'm gonna put them-specifically Emmanuel-through one hell of a time in this world. After all, they had to have inherited their parents' godawful luck. All of them.**

 **Also sorry if anyone wanted some timeskip. If you read reincarnation fanfiction, it'll take time to develop…most of the time. This chapter is essentially just showing how dear Emmanuel is currently adapting to his situation.**

 **So, once again, thank you! And I'm gonna sign off for some dinner now. See ya!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Rated: T**

 **Disclaimer: Again, I do not owe anything canon from Rick Riordan's creation. The only aspects that can be considered mine are the Ocs specially created for this story to work.**

 **Warning: Eventual slash. If the pairing doesn't fit your liking, please don't read it. There's also foul language and the likes. Once again, I warn you. Slash means BL a.k.a BoyxBoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **When Realization sets in, and Denial is pushed aside**

* * *

"Ah!"

"That's it, Emmanuel. C'mon, you can do it!"

Struggling to stand, as I clutched to the side of our coffee table for dear life, my unsteady legs were trembling as I slowly exerted more and more weight onto the chubby limbs. I could hear my mother cheering me on in the background, along with my dad and brother.

Months had passed in a flash. And in almost no time at all, I had grown up into a healthy (and adorable as hell) one year old toddler. I was proud to say that I had taken the 'growing up from baby again' phrase rather calmly if I did say so myself.

(In the future, my parents would send me a flat look when I said that and state that I was the absolute opposite of 'calm' during those stages. But that was in a time period _way_ too far off from now. And besides, I wasn't _that_ bad. Really.

They still firmly thought otherwise.)

During my months here, I had learned quite a bit of information about the world I had been unceremoniously thrown into.

First: I had been reborn in America, which was good, because I didn't know what I would do if I was reborn at some place like North Korea, which last I checked before I got ran over by a drunk, was in a _reign of tyranny and ran by a fucking madman_. This also meant that it ruled out quite a few prospective worlds that I might've been born into on my mental checklist.

Second: This meant I didn't go through the painful process of learning a new language all over again. While places like France and Spain were places I really wouldn't mind being reborn into, I never had a talent for languages, so learning new languages would be like sending me to Hell. For fuck's sake, I had barely managed to scrap through English with a 'C+' and I had outright failed French class!

Third: My family was famous. For what, I had no idea, but we - or more specifically, my parents - clearly were. Actually, they and a heck load of family friends were famous. The Jacksons. The Graces. The Valdezs. All of them were. Especially the Jacksons.

Fourth and finally: I was no closer to finding out which world I was in. While it could've been because I haven't exactly been making an active effort to find out, and was instead content to laze around and play all day than find clues, I couldn't help it. I _had_ decided to take it slow, but maybe I was pushing that declaration a tad too far...

Of course, just because life passed fast for me didn't mean it had been boring. On the contrary, I liked to think that I possibly had one of the most exciting childhoods a baby could have. And I had to admit, the reason for that was probably partially my fault, for willingly going along with half the things that've happened to me. The rest of it? I was gonna lay the blame on the people around me.

Like that one time I might've accidentally led a summer camp near us into a wild goose chase after me and an elephant...

* * *

 _It was a peaceful evening outside. Already, the sun was setting over the horizon, presenting a most beautiful scenery as it blended in with the rest of the sky. Splotches of red and orange painted itselfs over, as the day blue faded away. In the distance, my puny baby eyes could just make out the silhouttes of buildings and trees and people passing by._

 _ **Truly,**_ _I thought as I appreciated the view,_ _ **beautiful.**_

 _It was today that our parents had decided to take my brother and I out for a family picnic. Apparently, me and Sammy had been spending too much time indoors and needed to go out more. At least, according to Uncle Leo. But I didn't mind as much as I thought I would've. This place was nice, peaceful, I suppose. It was a large contrast to the neighbourhood that we lived in, that always seemed to have some sort of noise no matter the time or day._

 _A pair of caring hands suddenly appeared in my line of vision, trying to pick me up. I swatted them away. I had already learnt the skill of crawling and was determined to utilise said skill to get myself to wherever I wanted to go until I learnt to walk. My mother laughed, amused, but stopped her attempts to grab me anyway._

 _Huffing at the laughter that poured out from her lips, I got on my hands and knees and began crawling my way towards the picnic laid out. While I had been admiring the scenery, my parents had already prepared everything for a wonderful picnic dinner under the sunset._

 _A checkered red-white blanket was smoothed out onto the lush grass of the field; the woven wicket basket planted firmly on top. I inwardly drooled at the different dishes placed there. Apple pie, potato salad, pizza. . . god, I couldn't wait for the day I'd grow teeth and finally be able to taste solid food again, and not that disgusting baby mush which was force-fed down my throat as an even worse replacement for milk._

 _We had more more food than we needed, but I figured it was because a few extra guests were gonna drop by soon._

 _Sure enough, it was not too long later that the first of the predicted 'extra guests' arrived. Uncle Jason and Aunt Piper, with a walking Kathryn hot on their heels, came, followed by the Valdezs. The Jacksons. Aunt Reyna._

 _Pretty soon, our own picnic blanket was surrounded by a multitude of other equally colourful and riveting patterned spreads. Excited chatter and speech began to fill the air, as the younger children instinctively gravitated towards each other while the adults relaxed themselves onto the soft cotton laid out on the grass._

 _Eventually as more and more time passed by, I could feel my boredom grow by the minute. There was only so much entertainment I could get from playing with actual kids and it was beginning to wear down on me._

 _Lazily, my eyes did a sweep around the area. The hill was a crowded mess now, with all the kids running around and the likes. No matter where I looked, I just couldn't seem to pinpoint my parents' location. They too, along with my cheerful brother, were lost in the sea of people around me._

 _Strangely, I didn't feel panic. Just flat-out apathy towards my situation with perhaps a hint of curiousity. After all, no one here would harm me. That much I was sure._

 _I let out a drowsy yawn as I got back on my four limbs, prepared to brave the crowd to find my parents when a faint sound caught my ears. I stopped, before turning around and plopping myself back onto my buttocks when it came again._

 _I strained my ears, unsure of what I had just heard. Because surely. Surely, I was just hearing things. Because surely, I had not just heard an-_

 _BARAAG! BARAAG!_

 _-elephant._

 _The sound repeated again and again, only reaffirming the absurb possiblity that there was indeed an elephant here. And that, yes, I was not hearing things. There was currently an elephant in my immediate vicinity. Which begged the question of_ _ **why**_ _there was an elephant here in the first place, because last I checked, an elephant was not exactly the typical household pet you would buy to keep and drag home._

 _A quick glance back at the crowd behind me still showed no sign of parents. Shock gave way to curiosity as I tried to pinpoint just where exactly the sound came from. It was close. How close, I wasn't sure, but it was somewhere near me._

 _Crawling around a bit, I wandered, trying my best to hear where the sound was the loudest so that I could make my way towards it from there. I soon found it to make the most noise at the east side of the field. And from there on, all I had to do was to make the journey to there._

 _For a moment, my conscience told me that this was a horrible idea. That right now, I should be the good, obedient son and head back in the opposite direction and forget about even_ _ **trying**_ _to go towards the now clearly heard elephant trumpeting nearby. That I shouldn't cause my parents unnecessary stress ( A twinge of guilt stung me at the thought ) and that I should stay far,_ _ **far**_ _away from potential danger._

 _I ignored it._

 _It took a ten minutes slow crawl, but I figured it was all worth it the moment the elephant entered my line of sight._

 _ **Holy shit**_ _, I thought faintly as I craned my head upwards to view the full body._

' _Holy shit' was right. A normal elephant was big enough as it was, but this one seemed especially huge and twice as intimidating with the scars it wore like an armour. Coupled with the fact that I was currently in the body of an nine months old didn't help either. This thing could easily squashed me like an ant under its foot!_

 _I shivered at the comparison because the last thing I needed was to die. Again. Especially when I had yet to live for more than a year here._

 _The elephant - who I decided to now call 'Jumbo' in the honour of Mrs. Jumbo from Disneys – stared at me curiously. Its beady, black eyes were staring at me and if I had to guess its train of thoughts, it would probably go along the line of,_ _ **'What is this tiny, fleshy thing in my path? It looks like a mouse!'**_ _, and then, It would squish me._

 _Aren't I such an optimist?_

 _Lucky for me, that didn't happen. Instead, all Jumbo did was to continue staring at me._

 _Minutes passed, and yet, it still didn't do anything but stare at me. I was beginning to get a bit creeped out by this abnormal behaviour. It made me honestly wish that it would actually do something already, if only to stop this awkwardness._

 _And god, wasn't that a new low? Feeling awkward with an elephant... it just goes to show how pathetic my social skills were that I was in this kind of situation with. An. Elephant._

 _As I lamented my near to non-existent social skills, I didn't notice the grey limb creeping its way towards me. I did notice it however, when it wrapped itself around my waist and lifted – I repeat,_ _ **lifted**_ _– me up into the air, raising me higher and higher until we were face to face._

 _ **Woah, woah, woah-! Hold it right there, Buster!**_ _I mentally screamed at the elephant, hysterically flailing my arms like how a chicken would flail its wings when thoroughly cowed enough, in a desperate – read, deluded – attempt to try convey my message to it. That human babies should not be lifted this high off the ground and that should it fucking drop me, I would come back and murder it. And maybe sell off its skin and tusks for extra cash while I was at it. At the same time, I was also trying to voice my concerns to it, but all my vocal cords could manage were, "Ai! Guh, dun't 'rop 'e!"_

 _And in case you were wondering, I was trying to say, "Oi! Hey, don't drop me!". Evidently, that didn't work._

 _I wasn't quite so sure what happened next. But the next thing I knew, a war horn had been sounded, Jumbo charged off at full speed, people were frantically chasing after Jumbo and me and a game of tag had been started with about fifty something people being 'it' and the elephant and I being their targets._

 _The entire, very amusing, rather terrifying, game around the whole place had ended with Jumbo being detained by a hundred or so individuals, a hundred and more so knocked out and me being grounded in the house for a week._

 _Five days after my punishment ended, Jumbo had reappeared on our front porch at two in the morning._

 _On the bright side, I found out its name was actually Hannibal._

 _(Much later in the day, Hazel would bemoan the fact that her son seemed to sow chaos wherever he went and then, complain to her fellow mothers that she had expected this sort of thing to come from Percy and Annabeth's kid. Not her own!_

 _The pitying looks sent her way did nothing to ease her dread at the thought of the unintentional mayhem that was sure to come in the near future from her youngest son.)_

* * *

... yeah, that had been all my fault...

There was also that moment when an ill-timed slip of the tongue had resulted in a rather interesting situation and an unorthodox first word...

* * *

" _Gahgahgaha! Guh, ah!"_

 _Eight months into my new life and I was already a third of the way on my goal of regaining every basic body function I used to have in my previous life as Ethan Johnson._

 _Already, I had learned to crawl, although the speed of said skill left much to be desired. So now, here I was, in the living room, blabbering out unintelligible babytalk in an attempt to talk._

 _My brother was currently taking a nap upstairs, which I should've also been doing but I had threw a fuss when my parents tried to coax me to sleep. So in the end, they gave up and just left me in the bassinet in the living room while they prepared for some friends who were coming over today for dinner._

 _As far as I knew, only the Graces and Auntie Rachel – who I had only met two months ago – were coming today. The rest were either busy or had declined the invitation. Which meant I would be seeing Kathryn again. And my godparents, Jason and Piper Grace._

 _Oh right, and Rohan too._

 _Now don't get me wrong. I didn't hate Kathryn, in fact, I rather liked her. She was really nice to me. At least, whenever she paid attention to me. I didn't hate my godparents. I liked them a lot too, although I could do without the cooing and cheek pulling. There was also Aunt Thalia, who while I had only seen once or twice, had appealed to me immediately._

 _I didn't dislike any of the Grace family with the sole exception of one. An exception that came in the form of a boy the same age as me with lush chocolate locks and eyes like the sky. An exception that was the Grace's only son._

 _An exception called Rohan. Jupiter. Grace._

 _Hear me out now. My dislike of him wasn't based off of hate. If anything, it was based off of my annoyance of him. It's the kind of dislike that's formed from having a particularly pesky person who won't leave you alone, annoyed you everywhere you go and didn't know the meaning of privacy. That was what my dislike of him was built on._

 _I hadn't always disliked him. Heck. At one point, I had even contemplated befriending him. But after the day he called me girly to the face and got me into trouble that I had – for once – not started…_

 _The doorbell rang clear and crisp, prompting a grimace from me._

 _ **Speak of the devil,**_ _I thought with a quiet groan as I watched my mother bustle out of the kitchen, towards the door, opening it to reveal the faces of the aforementioned guests_ _ **, and he shall appear.**_

 _My mother greeted them cheerfully, quickly engaging each of my godparents in a short conversation before leading them into the living room. She did the same with Auntie Rachel before sitting down herself as my father brought out the tiny finger sandwiches, biscuits and cups of tea that had been prepared earlier._

 _The Graces were all dressed rather nicely, I noted as my father lifted me out of the bassinet and plopped me onto the playmat. A sharp contrast with Auntie Rachel's harried form._

 _My godparents looked well. My godmother – Piper – was dressed in a bell sleeved blouse and black leggings that accentuated her legs that she must've also noticed, judging by the annoyed glare she sent it. Her choppy hair fell to her shoulders with a stray strand tucked behind her left ear. My godfather was dressed equally neat, though I had a feeling that this was actually intentional unlike his wife. Blonde hair combed back and blue eyes beset behind thin framed glasses, his lithe frame was fitted by a button up shirt under a blue sweater and a pair of trousers._

 _Kathryn was dressed in a cute strawberry patterned baby frock, hair like her father's held back with a headband and kaleidoscope eyes glittering prettily under the lighting. Rohan, as much as it pained me to admit it, also looked rather cute. He was dressed in a miniature version of his father's outfit, complete with the sweater and all._

 _Auntie Rachel, on the other hand, looked stressed. Her flaming red hair was stacked untidily on top of her head in a pencil bun and there were light bags under her vivid green eyes. Somehow, she looked even messier than usual, which to me was a feat in itself, considering whenever she visited, she always wore clothes that had some hints of paint splattered on them. The paint on the t-shirt she wore now looked much more recent._

 _And apparently, I wasn't the only one to notice this._

" _Oh my Gods, Rachel…" my mother muttered worriedly," you look worse than ever. Have you even been resting lately?"_

 _The only thing that came from the clearly tired woman was the exhausted groan that left her lips. Auntie Rachel's entire form was flopped onto the sole armchair in the room in a manner that reminded me of a boneless fish, her legs were draped languidly over one arm of the plush chair._

" _I've heard you've been preparing for a big art expedition in New York, but is it really that big?" my father said._

 _An indignant grunt escaped the flame haired artist as she sprang up on him, all traces of fatigue eradicated in the face of what she perceived as a slight against her precious work. And let me tell you, Auntie Rachel was_ _ **terrifying**_ _when her art was insulted in any way possible, whether directly or not._

" _It_ _ **is**_ _big. Bigger than you can ever imagine! It will be a chance for me to gain sponsors and buyers and people who will spread my work, whether by mouth or internet! But either way, it is still a very big thing for me. So many other amateur artists will be there. And I need a way to make my work stand out among those other amateurs!"_

 _My father lifted up his hands in a placating gesture. "Woah! Woah, um, I didn't mean to insult it or anything. I just… didn't know," he finished lamely._

" _Then you better learn Zhang! Or else someone's gonna get hurt," she huffed, arms crossed over her chest as she lounged back into her original position on the armchair._

" _Yeah, Frank." My godmother teased as she snatched up a biscuit to nibble on. "Wouldn't want Rachel screaming like a harpy at you for not knowing where the Louvre was. Or what the Mona Lisa was for that matter."_

 _My godfather smirked ,"Indeed. In fact, I believe Leo still has those bruises from the last time Rachel tried castrating him when he'd asked who exactly was 'Michelangelo'."_

" _He deserved it!" Auntie Rachel grumbled as she herself grabbed a finger sandwich to snack on. "Honestly. Not knowing who Michelangelo was, he was asking for it!"_

 _My mother snorted, amused at the path this conversation was taking, "I think I'd like my husband to keep his… bits, thank you."_

 _I had meant to listen more, but a sudden,_ _ **painful**_ _tug on my hair quickly deterred me from doing so. I sent a sharp glance at the hand greedily fisting strands of my black curls between its fingers, tracing its origin back to…_

 _Rohan._

 _Great,_ _ **wonderful.**_ _When did that brat get here? Hadn't the kid just been with his mother not more than five minutes ago? Seriously, how did I not notice him sneaking up behind me…_

 _The tugging persisted. My annoyance grew. It was like this kid had no self-preservation whatsoever. I wanted to wring his tiny neck so badly but he was the son of my godparents. And I really, really liked my godparents. Killing their youngest kid wouldn't exactly put me on their good side, so I tolerated it._

 _At least, until the part he started getting a little too grabby for my taste. That was when the lid on my temper blew its head off._

 _I tackled myself at him. From an outsider's perspective, it probably looked like two cute babies playfully roughhousing with each other. Ya know, 'male bonding'. The reality couldn't be any further from it._

 _I attempted cursing him out, not really expecting anything but baby babble to leave my mouth. So imagine my surprise, when something_ _ **did**_ _come out, and since the Universe hated me, it was a curse word. The worst one that could've been blabbed out, with my current situation._

" _Fuc' you!"_

 _It wasn't articulate. Or clearly pronounced. But it was enough for anyone hearing to understand. And unfortunately, it_ _ **was**_ _heard. Heard by five very shocked adults in now pin-drop silence, previous chatter all but gone, tea and treats left forgotten on the coffee table, in favour of processing the fact that an eight month old had just_ _ **cursed.**_ _As his first word, no less._

 _ **Well,**_ _I thought faintly, feeling the five stares weighing heavily on my being as the brunette brat in front of me giggled_ _ **, crap.**_

 _(Later, when his children had already been put to sleep and his wife had retired for the night, Frank would break out the chocolate and go on a small binge eating craze that had lasted for all its five minutes worth._

 _ **At least,**_ _he mused as he devoured yet another Snickers bar_ _ **, he'll get along with the rest of my siblings, and his paternal grandfather, if the language is any indication of how he'll turn out to be.**_

 _That thought didn't comfort Frank one bit.)_

* * *

… yeah, so maybe I had a rather dirty mouth in my past life that translated over to this one as well, but for once, I wasn't blamed here, and instead, the blame lay on an imaginary culprit that had taught me that word that I had cooked up at the very last minute.

And of course, the less said about the situations I had gotten into that were happening due to the faults of others, the better. The _much_ better.

* * *

 _I stared._

 _The couple holding me in their arms who were most definitely_ _ **not my parents**_ _stared back._

 _A wide, delirious grin grew on the Asian woman's face as she excitedly exclaimed," Look dear! It's a sign, a miracle. God has indeed answered our calls for a child! Eleven months old with all our features and-"_

 _I blinked bemusedly, hearing what she was rambling on about. Huh. Go figure. It seemed like the lady was sterile and wanted a kid and so prayed to God about the matter. And apparently also asked for a very specific kind of kid from God, which I just so happened to fulfil all the criteria for. The same went for her husband who also had a rather delirious grin on his face._

… _seriously though, how did me popping out of thin air (how I got here, I had no idea) equal to this? Shouldn't this, by right, ring some alarms in their minds? Or were they that desperate for a kid?_

 _... oh well. I'll just sit back and see how this pans out._

* * *

In the end, my parents had managed to track me down to the Los Angeles apartment the couple were staying in. My 'adopted mother' – who, during my short three day stay with them, I had found out was named Fei – didn't take the fact that my 'original parents' had come for me very well.

Long story short, the law and Auntie Annabeth got involved, before I was whisked back home. All the while, hugging my clingy brother who had been hysterical about my impromptu disappearance.

Apparently my vanishing act was all Uncle Nico's fault.

So yeah. Boring did not even exist in my childhood, given half the shit I had buried my hands in, but really. I'd die of boredom if my childhood had been like any other still-in-diaper babies.

"It's alright dear. Come here!"

Deciding that I had kept them waiting long enough, I let go of the coffee table ledge and started my painful task of slowly putting one quivering foot in front of the other in a repetitive pattern to accomplish the next milestone of my goal, namely to walk.

Halfway through, I decided 'screw caution' and began toddling – almost running - quicker towards my mother's outstretched arms.

"Mama!" I squealed, as I practically threw myself to her at the last step. A joyous laugh and proud words greeted my accomplishment.

"You've done it, Emmanuel!" my mother laughed, hugging me close to her bosom as she buried her face in my hair. "See! Oh, I'm so proud."

Warmth flooded my body at her word. I had grown to love these pair of parents as much as I had for my previous pair. I yearned for their attention, wanted their affection and sometimes, monopolised them all for myself. I had also began to feel the same for my brother, who had subconsciously already taken on the part of protective, older sibling.

It was the idyllic picture of a family spending time together. My father had drifted over, slipping his arms around my mother's waist. Samuel – who he had been holding – instantly attached himself to me, forcing my mother to enlarge the tiny circle her arms had made to fit one more. I let him, too comfortable to protest.

And then it was interrupted.

 _Ding dong!_

The doorbell rang. Immediately, the once peaceful atmosphere dispersed. I felt plenty annoyed as my mother passed the two of us to my father, before going to answer it.

Seriously! Couldn't whoever was at the door come another day?! And it had been such a good family day so far.

Minutes later, my mother re-entered the room with a man in tow and a bright smile on her face. The man was tall, slender and lithe with just the right amount of muscles. He had greasy black hair that reminded me of a crow's wing and eyes just as dark. He was clean shaven, his skin as pale as a corpse's. A pristine three piece suit with a platinum and black striped tie and gloomy grey undershirt fitted his figure. On one of his fingers was a slim silver ring.

There was a dark, addicting allure to this man in front of me that was hard to resist. It made me want to prostrate myself in front of him. Though the thought of even _trying_ something as ridiculous as that in my chubby form, was enough to make me think otherwise.

I might've been seeing things, but for a moment, I could've sworn I saw something on the man's suit.

"Emmanuel, Samuel," my mother began, as she sat down on the loveseat, taking Samuel onto her lap, leading to the man doing the same. My father sat down as well, although he sat slightly further away from the older adult after greeting him, "this is your maternal grandfather, Pluto."

… eh? Eh? EH?!

This man. This man who looked no older than forty, with such a young face and fit body… WAS OUR GRANDFATHER?! Fuck! There must have been some anti-aging thing going on here, because _shit._ This man only looked old enough to be fathering a _teenager,_ which our mother most certainly was not.

Fuck, I was getting a migraine just thinking about this. Best to just accept it as it came.

The man – my grandfather – smiled at the two of us, his eyes filled with affection, interest and something like awe as he kept his gaze steady on both mine and Samuel's faces.

"Hello, there. Samuel, Emmanuel." He gently took Samuel from my mother as he said this. He caressed my brother's face with such care, that it was like, to him, he was handling fragile glass that could break any moment, should he handle it the wrong way.

"He'll grow up strong." He said. "Fair, just, kind. Good traits for one of his heritage to have. My side will be more prominent in him in terms of personality."

Soon, he handed Samuel back and took me in his lap. I stared at him, doing my own observations as he did his. Callous digits explored my face, cautiously touching and stroking it. My own smooth hands had automatically fisted his suit, though he didn't seemed to mind or care. My gaze travelled upwards as his crept down.

Our eyes met, and suddenly, I _**saw.**_

For a mere second, I saw the agony of the dead, of the damned and the despised. Their screams and wails and pleas for help, though they deserved it for all they'd done.

For a single second, I saw a throne of bones and endless shadows and a field of fire for as far as the land stretched. Finely crafted, despite _what_ crafted them, etched forever in it the horrors of history's worst.

For a _flimsy_ second, I saw a deep, _deep,_ _ **deep**_ hole that _never_ stopped. That I could _hear_ the cries of hate and howls of madness that came from the _**wrong, evil**_ pit. That set off every single survival instinct I had and told me to _run_ _ **RunRUN-**_

His eyes moved, and time restarted.

He was saying something about me, something about how I would grow up just as strong and kind and stuff, but all this was discarded in favour of the new views I had just been given.

My mind _sprinted_ at a thousand miles a second as little hints and clues I had been so wilfully ignoring flew together in an attempt to merge into one bigger, _grander_ picture in my brain.

And oh, what a merge it was.

As if a veil had been lifted off me and suddenly the once foggy world was so _clear,_ the picture – the conclusion – presented me told me everything I needed to know.

 _Hannibal the elephant…_

 _Pluto, Mars…_

 _Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Leo Valdez…_

 _Emmanuel Pluto_ _ **Zhang**_ _._

 _Oh god… or should I say, oh Gods._

And as my parents – _Frank_ _ **Zhang**_ _, Hazel_ _ **Levesque**_ _–_ and godly grandfather – _Pluto, Lord of the Dead, Lord of the_ _ **Roman**_ _ **Underworld**_ – continued on with their talk, as if they hadn't just unintentionally overturned my entire world on its axis or shattered my view on this life – this _**world**_ – into a million pieces, I knew I could deny it no more. The ignorant bliss I had would never return.

 _I had been reborn into the Percy Jackson series._

* * *

 **Sooo… yeah I'm one of those slow writer who will have sporadic updates and the likes. I have a tendency to read more fanfiction than actually finishing up the next chapter of my story.**

 **It's a horrible habit, but one that is, by no means, gonna go away any time soon.**

 **So yeah, chapter 3 everybody. After 2 months. Woo yeah.**

 **No offense to all you out there, but I'm burned out right now, so no long author notes from me in this chapter.**

 **Bye.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Rated: T**

 **Disclaimer: The Pjo and HoO series are not mine. They both belong to their writer, Rick Riordan. The only real thing I owe from this story will be the storyline and Ocs created for this story.**

 **Warning: Swearing ahead. Along with the usual. Of course, there will be eventual slash, which for those who don't know, means BL. Or boyxboy. So if these kind of pairings aren't your thing, you don't need to read it. And some religious slander that is meant for the story. Whatever insults you think are directed to your religion, please do not take seriously.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 **Accept and Adapt**

* * *

Let it be said, that for all the imagination and crazy ideas and indulgence for chaos I had possessed in my last life and now, that I was never very good at adapting. It was one of the reasons I didn't quite appreciate surprises and often, when things didn't go as planned, I'd be mad. Very mad.

Let it also be said that I wasn't _that_ accepting either. Oh sure, I had no problem with gays and the likes, after all, if that was who they were, then that was who they were.

But those were people. Humans. _Mortals._ And for all the differences and unique details each one of us possessed that made us _us_ , we still had the most basic things that made us human weaved into our very souls.

 _Gods, on the other hand, were an entirely different matter altogether,_ I mused blankly as I cuddled deeper into my warm blanket, listening to the quiet snores of Samuel who was just a few meters away, in another bassinet.

Their morals were too flexible and their natures too unpredictable. They had immense power at the very tip of their fingers that could be used to either make or break the mortal world that they threw around a bit too leniently for my liking. And I knew from the few legends that I had read in my past

life, that they weren't above being ruthless if they'd thought someone had slighted them in any way of sort.

 _Heck._ Jesus Christ's dad, the Holy God of Christianity practically handed out second chances like free candy – which was more than I could say for _some others_ – and preached about peace and good morals, when the dude himself freaking decimated half of Ancient Egypt's population in the span of like… a week? For fuck's sake, he sent out _the Angel of Goddamn Death_ to kill every firstborn son in the country! Innocent kids!

(Though I supposed the man _could_ justify his reasons for doing so, seeing as the Egyptians _had_ enslaved the people of Israel… so the Pharoahs had it coming.

That entire incident took the meaning of 'you reap what you sow' to a whooooole, new level.)

And wasn't that a scary thought? That these powerful beings still roamed the earth, freely mixing around with humans, even though they could've obliterated us where we stood.

It was terrifying. And I didn't quite fancy the idea of dying again, not after last time.

Sure, this was the _Percy Jackson_ series – or at least the aftermath of it – and yeah, perhaps the Gods had lightened up over the past few centuries. And if I were any more of an idealist, I probably would be sprouting off bullshit about happiness and rainbows and make friends with every freaking god and become some pseudo Mary Sue. Or Gary Stu since I was a male.

 _Yeah_ … that wasn't happening anytime soon. Like ever. The day I became some obnoxiously perfect, high-end, shallowly flat character, was the day I willingly castrated myself, became a drunk and let myself get hit by another car. Which in other words, was Never.

Another factor that I worried my raven head over was the universe I was set in. Sure, I could've probably been reborn in _Attack on Titans_ or something worse, so I shouldn't really be complaining about my current predicament.

But again, _Gods._

I was still trying to get the thought of that through my thick skull. The _idea_ that there were now beings that controlled practically every aspect of one's life now residing in this world…

Well, to say it simply, _damn._

And what's worse? There were _more_ pantheons out there, besides the obvious one I was born in that had an obsession with the number three, started World War II and contained trouble magnets like no other.

So because Rick Riordan decided to 'spice it all up', every book series he had written was pretty much dumped into one single universe. The Kane Chronicles, the Heroes of Olympus series, the Percy Jackson series and that new one about the Norse Gods and a guy called Magnus Chase that I never quite got around to reading. Though if I was lucky, I'd only have to deal with one set of Gods, but looking at my 'luck' now, probably not.

Seriously. How was this world still standing? After – like – five continuous attempts of world domination that _coincidentally_ all happened in the same time phase with _all of them_ seemingly happening one after another, or during each other. It was a true miracle in my mind that this world had yet to head down the path of the apocalypse for good.

But I was getting off track here. My point was, Gods scared the living shit out of me.

Was I overreacting? Probably.

Was I being too biased? Maybe.

Shouldn't I give them a chance first? I would try, but there was no guarantees. Like I said earlier, I wasn't a very accepting person and this sort of acceptance wouldn't come overnight. In itself, denial was a power of its own and it was what I was going to be utilising for quite a while.

It would have to come sooner or later, that much I knew, but as I drifted off into a restless sleep, I had a feeling that for me, this sort of thing was certainly not going to come easy, or anytime soon.

* * *

 _Smooth fingers belonging to petal-soft hands crooked themselves over the keys of a piano, preparing to play a song as childish laughter rang through the air of their cosy living room. The aroma of something sweet filled the place. My father watched us happily from behind the counter as he whisked the fluffy mixture. I could smell sugar and butter of the cake batter he was making._

 _I blinked dazedly, glancing down to see bigger hands. They were small still, only looking to belong to an elementary school kid, but they were very much bigger than I remembered them to be. Before I could take note of what exactly was going on, my body moved. I wasn't moving of my own volition. It felt more like a puppeteer was leading me on, carefully phrasing my every move to act out a long-forgotten yet very familiar scene._

 _My mouth laughed on its own. My limbs moved on its own. The only part of me that I had control over was my mind. It felt unnatural yet so nostalgic. And when the music started, my entire body stopped, moving itself to sit comfortably at the foot of the piano, as the melody began._

 _From a detached point of view, I noted the deep blue sweater my mother wore and the song she played. It was a simple lullaby. One that she could do easily._

 _I remembered this day. It wasn't very noteworthy, just another joyous memory among the many others I had as a child in my previous life. I watched with awe as our mother's finger fluidly flow through the song, Ellie – my little sister,_ _ **my**_ _ **little sister**_ _. The little hellion who would always nag me, and argue with me and just be a general pain in the ass, like all little brothers and sisters were, and_ _ **God.**_ _When did I start being so reminiscent? Hadn't I already made peace with the fact that I'd died and would never see them again? – by my side._

 _I wondered why I was dreaming of this. Ever since my rebirth, I had never really given them much of a thought. Maybe it was because I had been procrastinating it, bottling up the slight pain I felt whenever my mind strayed to them, until it piled up to fill five full buckets. And that was only in a year._

 _I began to hum along to the song._ _ **Twinkle, twinkle, little star,**_ _I dimly recalled._

 _When the lullaby had finished, my mouth let out a laugh of its own. Ellie clapped gleefully and my hands did the same. My mother's strict face – the one she'd use on the unruly students in music class at school – softened at our joy. She turned, pressed a kiss to Ellie's forehead and sent her off._

 _After Ellie had gone to pester father, she faced me. I expected her to do the same thing she did to Ellie. Give me a kiss and send me off. It was what had happened in this memory, after all._

 _But she didn't do it. Instead, she pulled me in closer to her, clutching my tiny body to her chest like it was a lifeline. Her action was frantic, slightly desperate. I started, confused, because what was going on? This certainly didn't happen in the original memory._

 _When she pulled back slightly, there were tears in my mother's pretty blue eyes and stress line on her face that I hadn't noticed before. I was sure that she hadn't had them at this age. I was so confused, because this didn't originally happen and I wanted to do something, but my body refused to comply; it just stood there within her embrace. She began to talk._

" _Ethan – dear." her voice came out choked, hoarse but also happy. She was always so proper and strict, even when clearly grieving, she still could speak without a single stutter in her voice, never giving away much of what she felt. It made me want to cry and hug her tight and never let her go forever and forever, because it didn't matter if this was some sick joke, or delusional hallucination, I_ missed _her. "I know you may not believe this dream-you take after me in that way, always so disbelieving unless the proof is there-but please listen to me, for just this once, listen to your mother."_

" _I know I've always been strict with you and sometimes, you find it unfair, but know that, despite everything, I've always loved you. Even when you caused me an endless amount of headaches and I pity whoever is your mother in your next life." She let out a watery laugh. My heart broke, seeing my beautiful, strong mother like this. I wanted so badly to reassure her that I've always loved her and that she didn't need to worry, but I just stood._

" _Listen to my instructions." She let out a deep, shaky breath. "Eat properly. Don't mix with the bad crowds. Brush your teeth twice a day. Curb your language a bit. Don't touch alcohol until you're twenty. Respect others and never forget my principles about utilising money. Make lots of friends, good ones that you can trust to have your back and one day, I hope you find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with…"_

 _She swallowed back her tears and if I had control, I probably would've been doing the same. When she spoke, I – for probably the first time in my two lives – heard her stutter._

" _N-Now dear, one more thing… I-I know this may seem unreal but it isn't. Y-your father and sister will visit you soon so don't reject them when they come. A-and also," she planted a final kiss – was this goodbye? – on my cheek and whispered, "always remember, we love you."_

 _She let go and I_ woke up.

* * *

Three days have passed since that first dream and I was starting to wonder if it had even been real at all.

After my mother had given me her heart-warming send-off in dream no.1, no more had come after it, even though she had told me to 'wait'. During those past three days, I hadn't been very attentive to my surroundings. I was constantly in and out of it and was far too quiet for my parent's liking.

I knew this worried them, as normally it was Samuel who played good cop while I voluntarily became bad cop. But was it cruel to say that I couldn't find it in myself to care?

In the short time span of one year, I could honestly say I'd grew to love them. After all, one had to be truly heartless if they could still sincerely say that they didn't care even a bit for the people who had fed them, clothed them and loved them for an entire year. _Especially_ if that person was a chaos-attracting troublemaker with good intention and a horrible way of showing it.

(And no. I wasn't talking about myself. . . Maybe.)

Granted, said parents had no idea that their precious second son was actually a reincarnated teen who was basically mooching off of them, but detail were details and right now, they weren't needed.

"Oh, Nico! You're just in time."

Oh yeah, did I mention that I was currently in one of those monthly family dinner gatherings that my parents were always so keen to arrange? Or that they've again practically invited every main character in both book series here? No? Well, now I have mentioned it.

My uncle stepped in, followed quickly by his spouse who was bouncing their adopted kid in his arms. Felisa Bianca Di Angelo-Solace – and wow, wasn't that a long name – was an adorable thing with the biggest baby blues for eyes and the darkest curls I'd ever seen a baby have. Even my own hair had a few natural brown highlights that could only be seen when hit under the right lighting.

She was only a mere month younger than both me and Samuel, but had already shown to be quite the cheerful person, already taking after her dad more in terms of personality. Usually I didn't mind playing with her, she was a much better option than freaking Rohan who pulled my hair any chance he got or goddamn Charles who had an unholy habit of drooling all over me whenever we were forced to play.

And then, there was Rena who was one unexpectedly moody baby. Which was weird considering who her _father_ was. But for the most part, while we did interact here and there, she preferred Samuel over me.

Another body joined us in the playpen. The newest addition to our group was giggling happily, as she quickly dug her hands in a box and began riffling through it, coming out victorious with a few building blocks and toy soldiers.

Then she turned to me. "Pway with me, Em?" she asked, lower lips jutting out cutely and I could already feel my heart begin to crack from the sheer cuteness of it all – and wasn't that just pathetic? To be done in so fast by a _baby_.

I took a quick look around me, but every other kid was occupied as well. And when I turned back to her, she was already using _puppy dog eyes_ on me.

My heart shattered.

"Ok. We pway," I replied, grimacing slightly at the slurred pronunciation of my words. Languages I may not like, but if my mother had been here to see me like this. . .

Bad thoughts, bad thoughts. Going on a trip down memory lane was not what I needed right now.

As we stacked up blocks and played with the plastic figurines, I couldn't help but start comparing Felisa with my – our. . . grandfather way, _way_ down there. Especially since I now knew the blood relation between us.

It was. . . a bit freaky, how similar she looked to both of them, despite being adopted. She had hair the same colour, the sharp chin that both god and son had and the chalky skin that resembled a corpse.

If it wasn't for the known fact that she was adopted, I would've thought male demigods could actually procreate. Which was a horrifying thought seeing as I was a male demigod. Legacy. You get my drift.

Luckily, we could not procreate, which reassured me that I did not end up in one of those wacked-up fanfiction worlds where soulmates were a thing or had a defined pack hierarchy mentality that would end up with everyone in the world fucking like rabbits at one point of their lives.

Yeah, lucky me.

I piled another block on top of the tower we made, and shuffled back to see my masterpiece in full view. It was beautiful, considering two one year olds made it. The blocks that made the tower was set in a repetitive pattern of: red, blue, green. They were stacked reasonably neatly, and in my very humble opinion, was a work of art on the level of Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa.

And in case you're dumb enough to believe that, I was being sarcastic, but I was proud of the impromptu creation.

To my horror though, a chubby fist punched its way through my magnificent tower, instantly crumbling its fragile infrastructure as if a magnitude nine earthquake had hit it.

Why?!

 _Nooooooooo_ , I bemoaned, mouth agape as I just sat there like an _idiot_ and watch each block fall to the ground in abstract horror, _why? Why!? Five minutes of hard work, gone. Gone. Just. Like. That!_

I continued staring silently at the broken tower, wondering if my parents would let me build a makeshift grave for it and bury it when a finger poked me.

Slightly annoyed that my mourning over the Tower was disturbed, I turned around, fully prepared to give someone a piece of my mind and a repeat of what happened to Rohan. . .

Only to crumble instantly at the sight of large, teary eyes full of concern and guilt aimed at me.

Damn it! I really needed to start building up a resistance towards cute kids.

"Sowwy," Felisa mumbled out, eyes so wide it reminded me of a kicked puppy.

"No," I replied, "no. 'm fine."

Instantly, she beamed, tears gone and guilt apparently abated. I sighed. No point at getting mad at her. Besides, she was a good girl, obedient and cheerful and-

"Ok, Emma!"

-and I took it all back. This brat was no different from the rest!

* * *

 _The scene this time was a kitchen. It was equipped with the standard equipment with a few extras here and there and was connected to the living room, set on an open floor plan._

 _I saw no sign of anyone this time around. In fact, the house was void of any presences. There was no piano melodies or shrieking laughter of any sort or even the smell of something cooking behind me. The place felt strange without anyone there._

 _I wanted so badly to move, to turn and see what my situation was this time, but my body seemed determined to become a statue, so no matter how much I willed it to move or do something, it still stood in the exact same spot, rigid and alert. I couldn't even look down to see what my body's age was._

 _ **Oh for fuck's sake…**_ _I thought irritably._ _ **Am I gonna stay like this for the rest of the damn dream?**_

 _I hoped dearly that that wasn't the case. Dream or not, I could still feel some things and that itch on my back was getting rather persistent._

 _Beep beep!_

 _ **Finally!**_ _I thought in joy as my body suddenly flashed into a full-on sprint towards the front door._ _ **I'm moving!**_

 _I almost crashed into the front door in my haste to get there, but still wretched it open, scanning our front yard for our car. I saw it immediately, parked just outside our closed garage door. It was an old thing - white with a few scratches and marks here and there - but had served us well faithfully for many years._

" _What the hell took so long?!" I shouted, annoyance filtering into my voice._

 _A figure emerged from the car, bearing groceries in both arms. My mind took a step back when I saw him again, but I expected it this time._

 _Straw blonde hair in a neat cut and wearing a polo shirt and trousers, my father was grinning happily as he practically skipped up the steps to our house. He was as tall as I remembered – a sturdy six foot five – with the lanky arms that often cooked up a storm of different delicacies for us whenever he had time. The admonishing "Language!" from him was promptly ignored by me as I took half his load and dumped it on the kitchen counter._

" _Well your mother was rather insistent that she help me with the shopping. She seems to have the idea that if she's not there, I'd forget the entire list of what we need," he huffed indignantly._

" _With good reasons too…" I mumbled under my breath, remembering one particular shopping trip that had ended in chaos._

" _What was that?"_

" _Nothing!"_

 _He hummed, taking my word for it as he brought out various pots and pans from their respective cupboards. A quick search through the kitchen produced the needed ingredients for the French dinner we were going to surprise mother with tonight._

" _What are we making anyway?" I asked my father, watching him expertly set the oven._

" _Porcini Mushroom Tartlets for appetizers, Boeuf Bourguignon for the main course and finally, a grand Opera cake for dessert."_

 _I paused, "… in two hours?"_

 _He must've heard my incredulous tone because he then gave out a cocky snort and said, "This old man of yours didn't get top reniews for his restaurant without learning a few things, kiddo. Now help me out with this."_

 _So for two hours, both my father and I painstakingly prepared each dish one by one with meticulous precision. Though truthfully my father did the bulk of the work, while all I did was help._

 _It took me a while, but now I remembered. This memory showcased the day of my mother's thirty-sixth birthday. I was nine then. My mother was from France but had moved to America when she met my father. It had been a year since she'd eaten French food so the rest of us had planned to surprise her with an authentic French style dinner._

 _My father was the owner of an Italian restaurant with one Michelin Star, so while he had dabbled in French dishes before, his main specialty was the Italian cuisine. My sister and I adored my father's cooking. While my mother could cook too, my father surpassed her by a long shot. But since his restaurant stayed open until ten, we never got to eat his cooking often._

 _I had fond recollections of this day. I remembered how overjoyed my mother had been when she saw dishes from her home country sitting on our dining table. She had hugged and kissed each of us on the cheek when she saw the surprise._

 _Although I did_ _ **not**_ _want to hear a recap of the passionate night they shared. I may love my parents, but that didn't mean I wanted to hear them do. . ._ _ **that**_ _._

" _Ethan," I heard my father say, "set the table."_

 _My head nodded, as my hands went to work with the familiar given task. In no time at all, our birch dining table was beautifully beset with a soft, white tablecloth with lace trimmings and four sets of cutleries and plates and the dishes we had prepared, although the cake was kept in the fridge for the time being._

 _It was so quiet. The moment way too peaceful to be interrupted; the only noises being the sound of washing dishes in the background. My body leaned back on the kitchen ledge, as the comfortable silence continued._

 _The one to break it was my father. "So, reincarnation eh? I know you always get into crazy situations, but this really takes the cake, son."_

 _He paused, wringing his hands before continuing, "To be honest. . . I don't really have anything to say. Your mother's already said it all, but the least I can do is leave some advice."_

 _His father twisted the sink tap, stopping the water as the last of it trickles into the drain. He picked up a kitchen rag and started drying the first pan. "You've never been a very adaptable person and from what_ _ **he**_ _told me, that's a dangerous trait in the world you've been born into-"_

 _ **He?**_ _I mused._

" _-so listen carefully. I'm only playing by what I was told so I hope this helps you." His father viciously rubbed the next pot, as he continued. "You probably know this by now and it may sound cheesy, but you have to accept that Ethan Johnson is dead and that only Emmanuel Zhang is there. Accept that and_ _ **move on.**_ _We – me, your mother, your sister – can't always be there for you anymore. In fact, these dreams are probably the last signs you'll ever get from us."_

 _I didn't reply as my father resumed his rather short speech. He seemed to give the stack of dry pots and pans a satisfied look before putting them all away. "I'm not telling you to hurry up with it. In fact, take all the time you need. Just remember…"_

 _Father shot me an affectionate smile as he came to my side and ruffled my hair one last time. "We'll support every decision you make, yeah?"_

 _The jingling of keys, the roar of a car – taxi – leaving, familiar laughter, the door creaked and I open_ ed my eyes.

* * *

Even after that conversation, I still didn't quite change my attitude. Oh sure, it had lightened up and my denial, after two conversations with my first set of parents, had decreased somewhat but I was still determined to sullenly sulk as much as I could.

Rant and yell about how immature it was of me all you want but if I had to deal with monster after my blood and Gods screwing up my life daily in my far-off future, then I figured I could sulk as much as I wanted right now.

"Samuel, Emmanuel, lunch time!" I scowled. Just leave me alone, woman! I wanted to sulk in peace!

My silent requests went ignored as two warm hands picked me up and brought me along, only to then plop me into my high chair. I stared enviously at the steaming plates of shrimp gumbo before turning back to my own bowl of wet fish porridge.

Shit, again? This was the eleventh time this week that we were having fish porridge. Samuel may like this gooey stuff, but that didn't mean I did. Fish and porridge was nice and all, but not when it seemed to be only thing we ate these past few days.

"Say 'ahh'," my Dad prompted, and for a moment, I contemplated chucking the bowl at his face to see how _he_ liked it.

Would serve them right for serving me this every day at every meal.

But doing so would be rude. And my mother had practically _pounded_ manners into me – even if I didn't use them very often. I had no doubt that she would find a way to haunt my ass if I did it, different dimension or not.

Unaware of my internal conflict, he stuffed the food into my mouth, and the slippery rice slid easily down my throat. He managed to get in a couple more spoonfuls before I made my decision.

Porridge looked good on him, really.

(Later when the sun had set, when I'd been tucked in and kissed _goodnight_ , I took a short minute to _think._ To ponder and let thoughts wander. I wondered if perhaps acceptance wasn't as hard as I thought. If perhaps I was just too stubborn to let it come.

I buried myself deeper into the pile of blankets and slept as these thoughts lingered.)

* * *

 _Under a dark blanket that was the night dotted with stars and lights, I woke up again to another dream that hadn't come for three weeks now. Cool winds playfully flicked my uncovered skin as my hands, following yet another old script like the previous two dreams, adjusted the scarf around my neck. I was pleasantly surprised to see the hands of a teenager staring back, although slightly smaller than I remembered._

 _My body slouched forward against the bench it sat on, gaze steadily scanning the local park. Alone with nothing but streetlights to accompany me, it wasn't hard to remember this memory._

 _This had happened after an argument with my parents. Looking back now, it was over something pretty stupid._

 _I was sixteen then, a single year shy of seventeen. You know how social life played a humongous part in every teen's life? Yeah, the same could be said for me. I had been a relative loner but I_ _ **did**_ _have friends. A small group with three other people._

 _Anyhow, one day, one of them – Hans, I think – had shoved an invitation into my hands, gave me a grin and in five minutes, had somehow got me agreeing to go, even though I just knew my parents wouldn't allow._

 _For the rest of the day, I had tried hyping myself up, thinking that maybe they'd allow, because hey. I was doing decently at school so why shouldn't they?_

 _Of course, fate had decided to be a fucker and when I had shown them the party invitation, my parents had said 'nope!' and I ended up with five extra worksheets on my study desk. What I did next was a very typical teenager thing to do._

 _I snuck out, leaving carefully propped up pillows to serve as decoy-me under my bed sheet and completely ditching homework._

 _At seven at night, I had tossed caution to the winds, donned on a pair of jeans and t-shirt and went on my merry way to Hans's house by bus. The party had lasted late into the night, and I had loads of fun._

 _I sure paid for it when I got home though, to meet two furious parents and an awkward sister who had apparently returned early from an out-of-town dinner. The 'Fuck' that slipped out of my mouth probably didn't help either._

 _From there, one thing led to another and, well, I think you can draft out a rough guess of what happened._

 _So here I was. Sitting alone on a park bench, legs apart and face in hand, as I stewed in my thoughts. Thinking about it now, what had possessed old me to just run out like that? I could've gotten raped or pickpocketed in this state of mine._

 _A sound quickly caught my attention and I lifted my head to see the nostalgically familiar figure of my little sister, wearing only a jacket over her flimsy pyjamas._

" _You asshole!" Why did I get the feeling that she was actually talking about my current situation instead?_

" _How dare you die on us!" Yup, definitely talking to me. But still…_

" _Die on you?! I'll have you know – it wasn't my fault when that drunkard rammed his car into me!" A tiny part of my mind was pleasantly delighted by the fact that I could actually use my voice and move however I wanted this dream around, but that part was quickly overshadowed by the much bigger part of my mind that was much more keener to sling insults at my brat of a sister._

" _Asshole!"_

" _Little shit!"_

" _Manure Head!"_

" _What are you – five?"_

" _OH? So if I'm five for arguing like this, how old are you, huh?"_

" _WHY YOU-"_

 _For a while, this continued. And when we had finally run out of insults to fling at each other, a sense of normalcy had firmly settled on us._

 _I had missed this. Not so much the rude words Ellie had for me, but these sarcastic, light-hearted banters that I'd long since come to associate with her, these little arguments that both of us would often share over the heads of our parents during a meal._

 _I really do miss her. And everyone else there._

 _Of course, that thought changed real quick once she slugged me across the face. "The fuc-?!"_

 _And then, she threw her arms around me, and started sobbing into my shoulder. I swear, women. Their moods change faster than a swinging pendulum._

 _Even after leaving a nice-sized bruise on my jaw, I slung my own arms around her, and let her continue crying fat tears of sorrow onto my shirt. To her, I was dead, five feet under and pushing the daisies, lying in a stone cold coffin and nothing more than a corpse._

 _And even though I had not a single clue as to how or why these meetings were – heck, I was still questioning if this was even real – happening, I was as grateful for them as she was._

 _Even if this turned out to be some half-cocked hallucination that would probably get me shipped off to the nearest mental hospital if I ever – which was really like never – mentioned this to someone._

 _Also now that we were on the topic of screwed loose brains, and terrifying mental illnesses, was there a Roman – or Greek – God for mental illnesses and the like? This pantheon had a God for almost everything after all. I mean – I suppose Apollo would fit the bill, but from what I remembered of the books, I really didn't think he'd be well-equipped enough to handle schizophrenia patient or those in the asylum._

 _And there was Dionysus – Bacchus? – too…_

" _You're drifting again."_

 _I blinked, and looked down to meet bloodshot eyes and a tear-stained face. Just the look on her face made me tighten my hold around her. She looked so fragile now, nothing like that spirited tomboy whose ambition in life was to annoy me to death. Which granted, she couldn't do anymore, seeing as I was dead and all and…_

" _Wow, were you always this easily distracted? Or has dying made you even more of an idiot?"_

… _And she was back._

 _I scowled at her, "I have ADHD in this life, brat. Give it a break."_

" _And this matters in dreams how now?" Shit, she had a point._

" _It's a brain thing. And seeing as dreams are made in the head, they have to be affected."_

" _That makes no sense."_

" _The world I'm born in makes no sense. Flying horses, magic toffee, and a fucking city on top of a cloud – all this crap isn't based on logic or science."_

"… _touché," she said flatly, effectively ending any conversation pass that point._

 _We didn't really talk beyond that point, content to just be in each other's presence on that imaginary park bench. There were stringed together hums and grunt and the nonsensical words, but nothing all that coherent to be considered actual sentences._

 _Finally, just as I could feel myself being roused from sleep, words were exchanged._

" _Don't be a hypocrite, will you? It just makes you even more unflattering."_

 _I snorted, "Speak for yourself… sis."_

 _The sky above me disappeared and in its place,_ was the white plaster ceiling of my nursery.

* * *

A month ago, I would've shied away from the Grim Reaper's touch. From the skin and hands of a cold immortal.

 _GoawaygoawayGogoGOAwAY- A truck – a traffic light – and-_ _ **Splat!**_

Now, looking on at clammy fingers and corpse-like hands, I looked up and _pass._

 _I can't guarantee easy acceptance._

Bearded chin, warm eyes, and a hopeful smile, even though it was set in the face of what sometimes resembled a walking corpse, the man in front of me didn't look like anything more than a hopeful, happy old man. A hopeful, happy grandfather.

 _And really, I'm not all that good at matters of the heart._

I looked back down. The offered hand started its retreat back.

 _But I promise I'll try._

I made my decision, and before it could fully return, I clamped down both hands on one crooked, cool finger.

 _And I hope – truly-that that's enough._

The man beamed, and slowly, so did I.

* * *

 **SOOOOO, I'm late. And really this chapter was really late. Seriously, it overshot my previously planned update-date by like 2 months. Yeah I was sorta lazy, and yes, this is kinda rushed and sorta doesn't connect with the rest of the story all that smoothly, and further more exams coming-**

 **So yeah. Late update. Really late update. And finals are coming. I really need a schedule for all this.**

 **So, as you all read up there, this chapter's basically Emmanuel coming to terms with his entire situation and really just freaking out. I added some family fluff in between as well. And also, Nico and Will have a cute kid! Can you guys guess who Rena's parents are? Or did I mention it in the previous chapters?**

 **So, I'll try to quicken this all up, but honestly, I haven't even started on the next chapter yet, which uh…. Umm…. Yeah. It'll come. At one point. Really.** _ **I'm serious.**_

 **I also really wanna quicken up this story a bit. Because I made an oath to myself that I wouldn't start another story until I write at least 10 chapters for this one. And I'm only at chapter 4 in a single year so…**

 **Yeah. See ya. And make sure to please review on your way out!**


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